


eden's bane snips

by EtchJetty



Category: Eden's Bane
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtchJetty/pseuds/EtchJetty
Summary: short snips in the world of edens bane, created by a friend of mine!





	1. camels

The camel wandered.

It wasn't the first time it had wandered. The camel had spent most of its life wandering, in some way or another. Sometimes the wandering was on its own volition, into whatever direction the camel thought there might be food or drink.

Other times the wandering was done under a harness. The camel would be directed from place to place, with man after man sitting on saddle after saddle atop its back. 

The camel didn't mind this very much either. The wandering directors tended to be fairly good at finding food and drink, which the camel appreciated. If the wandering director was bad at finding food and drink, well, the camel wouldn't have to worry about being directed for long.

This was how the camel's life went. Sometimes there was one other camel sharing the load. Sometimes there were two. A few rare times, the camel found itself as part of a ca-ra-van, and it carried no passenger upon its back at all. Instead it carried something that the camel didn't understand.

Until, of course, something was unloaded from the camel's back and traded in for some food and water. Then the camel understood the importance of its job.

Finally, after many, many years of wandering, it came across a pack of travelers. One of them smelled like watermelon and did something funny to him, and the others said the word "liberation" a lot. 

The camel and one of its fellows wandered with this pack, before ending up in the biggest oasis the camel had ever seen.

This oasis had walls. Big ones. The camel and its fellow were guided into a separate gate, away from the travelers, away from the one that smelled like watermelon. 

"We're going to need you to check these camels out as potentially stolen goods," said a voice. The camel didn't know what any of these words meant, because it was a camel.

"Yeah, okay," said another voice. "Gimmie a day or two and I'll have the investigation forms filled out."

A few days passed. The camels were provided with food and drink, so they were somewhat content, but from within the small stall, they could not wander. 

Finally, the same voice from before returned. "We're letting them go," said the voice. 

"What?" said another. This was the voice that had brought them food and drink.

"Yeah. King Kior's orders."

"What? I thought these camels were under investigation."

"Tossed out," said the voice. "The attached note said that it was a favor to the king's best friend."

A low whistle.

"That high up, huh?"

"Yeah. What can you do, y'know?"

"Yeah," said the voice. "Then what do we do with these guys?"

"I was gonna say return 'em, but apparently the party that entered with these camels are travelling by boat now." 

"So..."

"So, I dunno. Let 'em out wherever, I guess."

And so the camel became a wanderer again. 

This time, it was not nearly as difficult as it was in the past. It wandered the streets of the walled oasis. Strangers gave it food and drink, and it needed to carry nothing for nobody.

Some children began to call it "Mr. Camel." The camel, having no understanding of the concept of a gendered prefix, thought the sounds were nice enough and continued living. Continued wandering, as much as the walled oasis allowed it to.

\---

One day, wandering near the gate, the camel found someone that smelled familiar. It wasn't the-voice-that-brought-food, or the-voice-that-unlocked-the-stall. No, it was someone else. Someone who smelled faintly of watermelons.

"Ah," she said. "Hello."

The camel bleated in surprise. This wasn't the watermelon woman that did something funny to him, the one with a party that yelled about "liberation." No, this was someone else. Someone who only smelled like her.

"You confused me for her?" The woman-who-smelled-like-watermelons-but-was-not-her smiled. "Yes, I suppose we share enough history to trick the olfactory canals of a semi-domesticated beast."

She petted its snout. "Come with me," she said. The camel followed, though it wasn't bound with any harness this time. It followed out of an unfamiliar emotion, the emotion that it usually felt when trying to seek out food or drink. Curiosity?

The pair walked out of the main gate of the walled oasis. The woman waved to the guard, who waved back, and they were out. It was only a short walk before the camel could scarcely see the city at all. 

"Yes, we have a history," she said. "A long one. Old Petra doesn't remember me at all. I did her a favor recently, even if she doesn't realize it. No, none of them will. Perhaps not for a long time. Perhaps not ever.

"She doesn't understand yet what her role in all this is. I do. I believe she did too, at one point, though she's begun to retreat from herself a bit too much to become as in touch as she once was.

"She knew too much," said the woman-who-smelled-like-watermelons-but-was-not-the-first-woman, and despite not understanding the language that the woman spoke, the camel felt afraid. "And you know too much now, too.

"I'd like to consider what I'm about to do to you a kindness. No beast should be trapped in such a place."

And the woman raised her arm

And the camel knew no more.

The camel wandered.


	2. birdbrain

"Next?" said the human.

Brad stepped forward.

"State your name and date of birth, kid," said the Moda instructor.

"Uh, Bradley Brayne, unknown," he said.

"Subspecies?" asked the human with the clipboard.

"This is the flight test, right?"

The human sighed. "As part of regulation C-41, paragraph--"

"No, I get it, but I didn't think I'd..." Brad shook his head. "I'm an Avian Moda."

"No further subspecies distinction to declare?"

"Uh, no," said Brad.

The human with the clipboard scribbled something down.

"You've completed your six hours of accompanied flight?"

"I have the certificate," said Brad, "but it wasn't really--"

"Show me the certificate?"

Brad handed the certificate to the man with the clipboard. He made a few marks on the clipboard, nodding at the certificate. Then the clipboarded man handed the certificate back.

"You know the details of this test?" asked the Moda instructor.

"Yeah, uh, we just jump out of that window?" said Brad.

"And fly," added the instructor.

"Right," said Brad. "Yeah, easy. Okay."

"You may step up to the yellow line," said the clipboarded human.

Brad did so.

"You may fly when ready," he said.

Brad took a deep breath.

"Hey," said the Moda instructor. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," admitted Brad.

"Don't be, kid," said the instructor. "I've seen Moda way, way bigger than you soar with no problems at all."

"Yeah," said Brad.

"You're an Avian Moda, Bradley," said the instructor. "You've got this."

"Yeah," repeated Brad. "I'm just kind of--"

And the instructor pushed Birdbrain out the window.

And Birdbrain fell, and fell, and fell--

\--and landed, the blunt face of his shield spraying the corpse of his enemy a thousand thousand directions, viscera dyeing the walls red.

"AND BIRDBRAIN IS OUR VICTOR YET AGAIN!" screamed the announcer, his voice magically amplified. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT WAS FANTASTIC. A NEAR-PERFECT EXECUTION BY OUR BIRDBRAIN, AND I MEAN THAT BOTH WAYS!"

Birdbrain peeled his shield off the ground and, hefting the weight of it on his shoulders, held it above his head. The crowd went wild.

After milking their reaction for perhaps a few more moments that he should have, he slowly lowered the shield, the side entering the dirt of the ring with a _thunk_. Birdbrain walked away into the gate on the side of the arena, waving to the crowd with one wing. 

"Birdbrain, great match today. Really, really great," said his manager. "Phenomenal, almost."

"Almost?"

"Well," said his manager, "you did go right for the stomp."

"I thought it was a pretty good stomp."

"It was a great stomp, Birdbrain. One of the best." 

"You think so?"

"You tell me, Bird."

"I think so," said Birdbrain. "Kind of, uh, even distribution of viscera, I think."

The manager laughed. "Oh, man, that's not gonna come off even _with_ prestidigitation," he said. "No, the stomp was good. You just seemed a little rushed."

"Rushed?"

"You went right for it, Bird. You should have toyed with him a little."

"I'm not great at the, uh, mental stuff," said Brad. "It's kind of hard to strike fear in my opponent's heart beyond what the shield already does."

"No, Bird, you're not listening. It's not about making him afraid. It's about making the audience feel like they're watching, I dunno. More than just a death machine."

"Death machine?" asked Birdbrain, unsure if he should be offended. 

"Yeah, Bird. More, jungle predator than uncaring angel."

"But I don't care about who I'm fighting," said Birdbrain. "Aren't I killing them?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, of course," said the manager. "But you gotta understand. The audience doesn't know about that. They don't know about your heart. They wanna see you pretend."

"...I don't know," said Birdbrain. "Maybe."

"Bird," said the manager. "I think you might want to take that vacation we've been talking about."

"What?"

"All I'm saying is, if you're not willing to try--"

"I'm willing to try," said Birdbrain. "You don't have to push me. I'm going to try. Not try. I will! I'll toy, like, like a Cat Moda and yarn."

"That's a bit of an ethnically questionable statement, Bird, even though I like what you're saying. But, y'know, the more I think about it the more I think a vacation would be good for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Spice it up, Bird. Go to other kingdoms. See how they fight there. Your stomp is great. Really great. Trading card great. But it's... You gotta have a little more sadism."

"...alright," said Birdbrain. "Where am I going?"

"A month vacation. Just head along the coast. It'll be good for you. Good for the audience, too. When you come back they'll go nuts for the stomp."

"...Yeah," said Birdbrain. "Okay. You're sure I did well?"

The Moda instructor sighed, helping Brad off the ground. "You did as well as I think you could have, kid. Considering you're flightless and all, it's a miracle you survived."

"I'm not... but I'm..." He felt like he was going to cry.

"Brad," said the Moda. "I'm sorry. It happens from time to time. Certain subspecies of Avian Moda are just flightless. Now, you said you didn't know which one you were, and that's fine. But in the future?

"Don't try to fly."

Birdbrain entered the tavern. 


End file.
